“Yeah, well he didn’t have a choice, did he?”
Ouch.
“No, but he’s happy. Or haven’t you noticed?”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he mutters. “He’s so damn happy I have to chain him to his desk to get any work done. Metaphorically speaking of course.”
“Is he more focused when I’m out of the house? Do you think that helps?” I’m asking because I’m genuinely curious.
Wolfe grunts and shakes his head. “Nope. He’s more agitated when you’re not home. All the men complain about it.”
“Really? I thought he’d be able to focus more without me around.”
“Nope. It’s a dangerous world out here. When you’re not at home, you’re not safe.”
“I’m perfectly safe with my bodyguard—you. Don’t you agree that we’re safe?”
His gaze scans the streets. “Anything can happen out here. You’re safe one minute, then dead the next. You’d do well to remember that, sorceress.”
I glance up again, surprised by his strange nickname for me. I can’t tell if it’s a type of endearment or an insult. Wolfe doesn’t exactly like me, so I assume the latter.
“You’re a ray of sunshine, you know that?”
“Just saying it like it is.”
“And managed to avoid my original question.” I lean further forward in my seat. “What’s the real reason you aren’t in a relationship since we both know the excuse of you’re too busy is bullshit.”
He glares into the rearview mirror, our gazes lock. “I was there when my mother became a widow. Then I lost my sister to this world’s darkness. I’ll never risk putting a woman through that, especially one that I claim to love.”
My lips part, forming anO.
Wolfe tears his gaze away, his jaw muscles tense. I settle back into my seat, silence hanging between us as I digest his words. I didn’t know he had a sister. What happened to her? How old was he when his father died?
So many questions that I know he won’t answer.
With the house renovations seeming to take an eternity, the holiday season and our one year wedding anniversary pass in the blink of an eye. We spend a few weeks packing, eager to move, but trying not to get ahead of ourselves.
Who knew the permit process would takemonths? Then all the inspections, the delays, the bribes that had to grease a few wheels. Sourcing everything I wanted, design decisions… At onepoint, I wanted to scream, cry, tear my hair out. But we made it through.
Then one day I wake up, it’s February, and our move in day.
I’ll admit, I am not really going to miss the compound. This step forward in our relationship feels like a piece, one I didn’t even know was missing, has finally fallen into place. We have our perfect home in the city. This is the start of our true married life together.
First marriage. Then a home. Next a family.
The renovated brownstone displays the perfect mix of old and new. We have a primary suite with two dressing rooms, and an en suite bathroom. A smaller attached room reserved for a future nursery. It can be accessed from our room as well as from the hallway. A guest room, and several other bedrooms to accommodate us as our family grows.
On the ground floor, Cian has his home office. We’ve also created a library, complete with a fireplace and two stories of bookcases. Very similar to the library at the compound, but now he won’t have to keep the door locked to keep it private.
Setting up a new household comes with the need for staff. We’ve hired a chef, housekeeper, and cleaning service. All with ties to the Irish mob, of course. They may as well be extended family.
The place only comes with a two-car garage in back, so Cian has had to pare down his collection of cars, leaving several of them at the compound. One space is taken by the town car I ride in on a regular basis, the other spot houses Cian’s vehicle de jour. Sometimes his motorcycle, other times a sports car or an SUV. The man loves his cars.
We arrive at the house as soon as the moving and decorating crews have finished. Cian sweeps me into his arms, as if I weigh nothing at all, and carries me over the threshold.
“Welcome home,” he says, taking in the grand entrance.
I kiss him. “What should we do first in our new home?”
